


If I...

by rubydragon16



Series: Point Of No Return [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Brace yourself, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Future Fic, Heartbreaking, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Makoto's POV, Memories, POV Male Character, Post-Series, Romance, Tragedy, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubydragon16/pseuds/rubydragon16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...And the moment that forever changed the tide…</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I...

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's a lot of words, but-*shrugs* I had a story to tell...

**Iwatobi Public Library**

Makoto’s back was aching; not from swimming surprisingly. No amount of training could compare to the pressure he was feeling at the present moment. After all, it wasn’t easy to have someone only a few pounds lighter than himself to be perched on top of his shoulders, while he anxiously scanned the bookshelves for the object of his desire.

But, then again, it was Rin. “And it was very hard to refuse those scarlet eyes that want you to help him in whatever task he wished to attack at that particular time,” he thought ruefully to himself, as he wondered once again how he’d ended up in his current position.

“Makoto,” Rin nudged him slightly, his voice interrupting his thoughts. “Move a little to the right,” he instructed him impatiently.

“Sorry, Rin.” He shifted himself slowly, as Rin’s wandering fingers continued trailing over the books that were placed too high above their reach. “Have you found it yet?” he asked hopefully, eager to rid his muscles from the heaviness of Rin’s agonizing weight.

“Not yet, but I think-ah, here it is,” Rin exclaimed suddenly, pulling out a book, then upon closer examination, he paused, “Oops, sorry, false alarm-I think the name was--” Rin’s voice faded away as his unwavering eyes resumed their hunt.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Haruka asked in his usual dead-pan tone, from his spot near the end of the book aisle. He leaned his back against it, a bored expression plastered on his face.

Makoto tilted his head slightly and gave Haru an apologetic smile. He remembered how he had been less than eager to assist in Rin’s latest adventure, but he’d tagged along, after Makoto had caved in to Rin’s beseeches. Rin had assigned him as look-out, keeping an eye out for, as Rin liked to call them, ‘annoying librarians that insisted children should stay in the children’s section’. Only, of course, after he’d deemed that since Makoto was a few inches taller than them, he’d be a wiser choice in helping him reach the upper portions of the bookshelves.

“Don’t you remember? Rin’s looking for a book that his mother had checked out from the library. He’d been reading it,” he paused, as Rin’s arm reached dangerously further than it should be, so he quickly moved along with him, then, “but his mom returned it before he had a chance to read the ending,” Makoto reminded him gently. “Not that he should have been reading books that weren’t intended for him in the first place,” he pointed out matter-of-factly to Rin, who simply scoffed at his mild chiding.

“I still don’t get why we had to help,” Haru grumbled, staring out the window resolutely. “I mean, did he _have_ to use you as a foot-stool and me as a watchdog?”

Makoto smiled, despite the gnawing throbbing in his shoulder blades. “Haru-chan, I don’t think Rin could have fit a chair in through this narrow area, without drawing any attention towards him,” he explained patiently. “Besides, we’re not allowed to be in this part of the libr--,” his sentence was cut off abruptly, as Rin triumphantly exclaimed, **“FOUND IT!!”**

“Shh,” Haru hissed, at the same time Makoto squeaked, “We’re in a **LIBRARY**!” just as he jumped off his shoulders in rushed excitement. Caught off-balance, Makoto stumbled backwards on his feet, almost crashing into the bookshelf behind him. Haru hurried forward instinctively to suspend his fall, grabbing his wrists firmly. Rin, completely oblivious and the least bit bothered by the trouble he’d caused, hurried towards the nearest table, and eagerly began flipping the pages.

“Are you okay?” Haru asked worriedly, clutching his arms tightly. Makoto grimaced slightly, as he gently massaged the soreness out of his shoulders. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied, smiling at Haru, who was lightly glowering at Rin for his negligence. “Thanks, Haru-chan.”

“Hmm,” Haru hummed in response; his face slightly pink, he let go off Makoto, almost reluctantly. He headed back to his look-out post, purposely ignoring Rin, who was bent forward, completely engrossed in the writing. After a few moments of silence, he leaned back in his chair and sighed dramatically.

“There are no words,” Rin expressed finally, placing his hand over his forehead in a theatrical fashion. “Now I know why Mom was crying,” he muttered softly to himself, tucking his loose strands of hair behind his ear.

“Crying about what?” Makoto asked, intrigued, as he came closer to him, still carefully rubbing the cramps out of his neck.

“This!” Rin exclaimed proudly, and brandished the book before Makoto. He looked pleased that Makoto was showing some interest, so he peered at the title politely, and read aloud, “‘Unspoken Promises,’* by Yuki Amane*.” His eyes then surveyed the page which Rin had been intently absorbed with. “It’s a poem,” he said, rather flatly, the ten-year-old in him marveling at Rin’s fascination with the strangest things. _‘This was what Rin was so worked up about?’_ he thought disappointedly. Rin scowled deeply at him; he clutched the book tightly to his chest, as if his comment had just severely wounded him.

“Not just any poem,” Rin countered defensively, clearly annoyed at his casual reaction. “Geez, I swear, sometimes you’re as bad as Haru,” he observed critically, causing Makoto to smile apologetically and Haru to scoff from his station.  “You two spend **WAY** too much time together,” he continued, shaking his head. “Anyway,” he added briskly, “ _this_ is what I _just knew_ would be worth my troubles.”

“And ours,” Haru added unnecessarily. Rin ignored his remark, and shoved the book back under Makoto’s nose with a flourish, and pointed to the final couplet of the passage.

“Here, Makoto- read it and weep,” Rin stated with dramatic effort. “And then tell if you don’t think it was worth it or not,” he challenged, glaring disapprovingly at Haru, who had let out a tired, albeit forced yawn. Makoto sighed softly and took the book from his hands just to satisfy Rin. He read aloud:

_“Forgotten is the pain I felt at that time,_

_As I hear the clock’s bell ring its final chime;_

_“For I know now I have found eternal bliss-_

_If I can die with your name still on my lips...”*_

The three of them were quiet as the words hummed around them, somehow enveloping them, then---

“Well, isn’t it romantic?” Rin demanded eagerly in Makoto’s face, breaking the stillness. He flashed him his toothy grin, as he shyly tucked his hands behind his head, awaiting his response.

A strange feeling swept over Makoto, as the words echoed in his mind, sending a tingling sensation throughout his body. He stole a glance at Haru, who continued to stare out the window, his gaze fixated at one point, appearing completely unfazed at what he’d just heard.

 _‘Haru, what did **you** think of it?’_ He longed to know what Haru was feeling at that moment. He could always guess what Haru was thinking, it was his special gift, after all, but sometimes-sometimes he wished Haru would say it out loud for him, rather than him putting words into his mouth. _‘Why did he care, even want to know, what Haru felt, anyway?’_ he thought suddenly, as his heart gave a strange flip-flop. _‘Could he ever say- think, something like this for anyone? For Haru? For himself?’_ Haru, who rarely expressed any sort of emotion, could he, Makoto, ever make him have this intense feeling of desire? The urge to ask lingered in his heart, before Rin’s voice again interrupted his thoughts.

“Well?” Rin prodded, his eyes twinkling hopefully, hoping to find support in his reason of searching for the book so desperately. Makoto smiled at his expectant look.

“Yes, it is romantic,” he agreed softly, appeasing Rin’s enthusiasm. His fingers traced over the final words, drowning out Rin’s jubilant “I knew you’d understand,” then, “So, who’s going to help me put it back?” followed by Haru’s habitual response, “You’re on your own,” and their usual banter ensuing.

“Romantic,” he repeated silently. Yet from a small part in the back of his mind, he wanted to argue, “Somehow, why did it sound so tragic instead?”

~*~*~*~*~

**Ten years later**

“Well, this concludes your final day as interns at this swimming facility,” Fujimoto-sensei, the head coach-counselor at Makoto’s intern training camp, boomed across the gymnasium. “I hope this week-long experience has taught all you newbie trainers some expertise in the field of coaching and that it can only encourage your resolve to pursue this particular career,” he continued loudly to the present gathering. “Now with that, please say your final good-byes to your respective groups and you will be expected to convene at the bus in no less than-“he glanced at his watch, “T minus 1 hour and 53 minutes. Thank you very much.”

 **“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”** the crowd chorused in unison, before they began to disperse towards their selective stations. Makoto separated himself from the rest, amidst loud chatter and occasional good-byes exchanged here and there. He eagerly headed over to the group of 8-10 year old kids he’d been responsible for the past week, and he felt a slight pang over the thought of leaving them. Children from all over Tokyo had come to attend this particular swimming camp, and he felt proud that his university had selected him along with a few other worthy candidates to participate in their current internship program. But, now the course for the interns was over and all the selected students had to return home, while the children stayed behind with their normal instructors. Makoto had learnt a lot from his experience and had enjoyed being their coach. His only hope was that his students felt the same way.

“Everyone,” he called, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Gather round quickly,” he said, as they huddled close to him, chattering amongst each other, before becoming silent.

“Today, as you all knew already was my last day,” he began, but was cut off by their loud protests.

 “Makoto-sensei, are you **REALLY** leaving us?” Hiroshi, a chubby boy of 9, asked sadly.

“Makoto-sensei, do you absolutely positively have to go?” Miyuki, an avid 10-year-old diver, chimed in, tugging at his wetsuit, clearly insisting that he stay with them a bit longer.

All the students eagerly joined in, adding, “Please don’t go, Makoto-sensei” and “We want you to be our teacher” and “Who’s going to do the relay with us?” Seeing their reactions, Makoto’s heart swelled up with gratitude. If nothing else, the fact that he could bring joy to so many young faces most certainly meant that he had done his job right. And that feeling was more than enough for him to walk away with.

“Oi, oi,” he started, holding up his hands to stop them from pleading any further. He looked at them kindly. “Let’s not be like this. You know I had to leave soon enough,” he reminded gently, his mouth curving into a small smile, at their saddened expressions. “Thank you for allowing me to be your teacher, even if it was for such a short time. Really, I’m sure that your next teacher will be even better—”

“No, you were perfect Coach Tachibana,” Kanade, a tough swimmer who’d mastered the breaststroke, cut in enthusiastically, her cheeks slightly flushed; all the others eagerly nodded in agreement. Makoto’s heart filled again with pride as he looked at their expectant happy faces.

He gave a low bow towards all the kids. “Thank you very much,” he said with deep feeling, slightly choking on his words. He hadn’t expected to become so attached to them, but a week with only focusing on a training regimen to improve swimming skills would do that to anyone, he supposed.

“Thank you very much, Coach Tachibana,” all the kids chanted in unison.

Makoto lifted himself up, and gazed at his adoring students one more time, when he felt a gentle tug at his hand. He looked down, and saw Yui, a small girl who had been first terrified of the water, but with his gentle coaxing had finally learnt to swim, gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

“Yui-chan,” he said, kneeling down and holding her hand tightly, “What is it?”

“Tachibana-sensei,” Yui began hesitantly, her face turning a deep scarlet, “I-“she paused, casting her eyes away from his, as if regretting her decision; then she gripped his hand tightly and declared with wide open eyes, “I’m in love you.”

“EH??!!!” all the kids chorused together in complete shock; flustered, Makoto stood up, completely caught off-guard, as Kanade protested loudly, “Hey, that’s not fair!” and Seri, a headstrong 8-year-old, added indignantly, “What about me?”

The younger boys groaned at their sudden outbursts, as the younger girls began to bicker amongst each other. Watching the current situation unfold, Makoto couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. Of all the good-byes, this was the least he’d ever expected. He held up a silencing hand, before things got out of control.

“Now, Yui-chan,” he started gently, “and Kanade-chan, Seri-chan” he added quickly upon seeing their scowls, which immediately lit up into hopeful expressions.

“You know, to say you love someone is something really meaningful,” he began slowly. “It’s not just something you can say to anyone. To say ‘I love you’,” he paused, as he carefully deliberated over the right choice of words, “is to mean it-to feel it from the depths of your soul, your heart-wait,” he stopped, and said aloud rather bluntly, “why am I telling you all this? You’re still too you-.”

“I’m going to be eleven in September,” Yui bragged proudly, all previous bashfulness forgotten.

“Yeah, well, I’ll be nine in December,” Seri countered, as if that made all the different in the world.

“My point is,” Makoto continued, before things escalated, “I’m flattered that you would feel this way for me, really, but I hope you’ll see that-“ he ran his hand helplessly through his hair, “I really don’t know what to say,” he finished lamely. It surprised him that having younger siblings, he didn’t quite know how to address the situation; maybe it was because Ren and Ran were so busy doting on him, they hadn’t had time to think about ‘love’ yet.

“Does that mean you don’t care about us, Makoto-sensei?” Kanade asked, her lower lip trembling.

“No, I **DO** ,” Makoto insisted quickly, “It’s just that-“

“Oh,” Hiroshi guessed expertly, snapping his fingers loudly. “Tachibana-sensei has a girlfriend?”

“WHA-?!” all the children cried out, as Makoto felt a furious blush creeping on his cheeks.

The instant he heard those words; the image of eyes that were too blue, wavy dark hair that tingled with electricity, plush pink lips that tasted of mackerel, and Adonis-like arms that grasped him tightly, whenever he tried to break apart, swam into his mind, the color rising rapidly. He could feel the heat flaming on the back of his neck and at the tip of his ears, as the kids crowded around him earnestly. Their sudden interest was piqued, fascinated by this sudden revelation.

“Is it true, Makoto-sensei?” Kanade asked curiously. “Do you already have someone special in your life?”

“Well,” Makoto hesitated, again running a hand through his hair uncertainly. He was positive his face was a bright tomato red right about now, as he marveled at the innocent-like yet direct way in she approached the situation.  The image became more prominent as it turned into memories of moonlit kisses, and fingers interlacing in the stillness of the night, only to be woken with a warm breath caressing his cheeks ever so lightly. There was no sense denying it to them, he figured. “Well, there is someone,” he finally admitted rather shyly.

“Really?” an exclamation of surprised delight rang out; they all began talking at once, bursting for more information.

“Is she pretty?” Kenta questioned, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. Makoto gave a low chuckle; no sense giving them **_all_** the details.

He nodded deeply. “Yes, Haruka is very pretty.” _‘Without question,’_ he added silently to himself.

“Haruka, eh, such a pretty name,” Seri gushed, forgetting entirely that she had just professed her love for him a few minutes ago. “Is Haruka-chan as good a swimmer as you are, Makoto-sensei?”

“Hm-mmm,” Makoto shook his head. “Better. Olympic worthy standards,” he admitted somewhat boastfully.

“WOW~!” a murmur of approval swept amongst the kids, as they marveled at the secret love life of their discreet coach of the past week.

“Tachibana-sensei,” Yui whispered softly over their enthusiasm, “Do you love Haruka-chan?”

 _‘Love?’_ Makoto repeated the word over in his head; it suddenly dawned on him, that throughout the time they had spent together, whether between falling asleep in the sheets, sharing a bowl of ramen, or even just trailing languid kisses down his collarbone, never had Makoto been able to utter those words: “I LOVE YOU.” And coincidentally, Haru hadn’t said them either, he realized with a start. Did this mean he didn’t care about him? No, Makoto had loved him for as long as he could remember. Haru was…always would be-his entire world. And yet why—

“Makoto-sensei-” Kanade tugged at his hand, breaking his train of thought. He blinked and saw all of them looking at him expectantly. “Do you love Haruka-chan?” she repeated the question.

He sighed slowly. “We haven’t used that word yet,” he answered slowly, “But I-“he faltered, as a wave of emotion swept over him. The entire past week he realized that with ever waking minute he had inadvertently thought of Haru. When they had to turn in their cell phones lest they were distracted from their work; when he swam in the pool, and he could sense his presence behind him, when they served dinner and he pictured Haru’s reaction to the mackerel-devoid meal, when it was lights out, and in the darkness, he could feel Haru’s arm snaking its way over his waist, murmuring ‘good night’ into his shoulder, when he re…Yes, he **DID LOVE** -he

“I think I do,” he consciously became aware he was saying it aloud, “I love Haru-chan.” He couldn’t believe how much he had missed him, even if it had only been a week; the desire to see him again pulsated strongly throughout his body.

“Oh,” Yui sighed sadly, while the other kids showed their surprisingly mature support of his announcement.  He smiled at her reaction, and took her small hand in his. “Yui-chan, don’t worry. I’m sure one day you’ll find someone just as special who’ll love you the way I do-“

“Have you told Haruka-san how you feel?” Kenta demanded, sizing up to him, as he puffed his cheeks in and out, resembling someone Makoto knew only too well. He sighed. ‘When did kids become this persistent?’ he wondered strangely.

“Not yet, but I-“

“Makoto-sensei, you should,” Kanade burst out, gripping the front of his wet suit tightly. “If you don’t, Haru-chan will never know how you feel, and you’ll never hear ‘I love you, Makoto’ either, and then-“

“What if Haruka-chan doesn’t love you?” Seri asked, her eyes widening with shock, as she grabbed him from the other side. “Tachibana-sensei, you’ll never know if you don’t hear from Haruka-chan-before it’s too late-before-“

“All right, all right,” Makoto laughed, untangling himself from their grasp good-naturedly. He patted their heads lightly. “Thank you for teaching me something before I left,” he commented appreciatively, as he murmured under his breath, “I can’t believe I never said it before—“

“Oi Tachibana!” Makoto turned, to see one of his classmates, Yoshino waving his hands back and forth at him to get his attention. “C’mon, we gotta change before we board the bus.”

“Okay.” He gave one final sweep of his students with a warm smile. “Now don’t forget all that I’ve taught you and you’ll all be great swimmers one day.”

“You’ll come visit us, right?” Seri asked hopefully.

“I promise.” He began to walk away, when Yui grabbed his hand once more. “Makoto-sensei, remember,” she whispered softly, her eyes shining, “remember to tell Haruka-if you mean it, to say it…”

~*~*~*~*~*

 “Oh, I can’t wait to get back,” Ayato, his roommate during the past week, exclaimed, stretching his arms languidly over his shoulders. Makoto smiled at the boy seated next to him. An hour later, Makoto and the rest of the interns from different universities in Tokyo found themselves on the bus back home.

 “What’s with you, Ayato?” teased Shiromiya, another one of their classmates, from the seat in front of them. He leaned over to get a better look at them. “You sound like you’ve been away for ages.”

“You’d feel the same way I do if you had to leave behind what I did,” Ayato replied, leaning back in his seat. “Man oh man, if you had what I had-“he paused, as he sighed dramatically.

“And what is that exactly?” Rentaro queried, turning over in his seat to look at him expectantly. He had been extremely shy when he had first arrived, but after a few days surrounded by overly enthusiastic kids and their equally exuberant senpais, he’d eventually loosened up.

“I’ll tell you what you’re missing out on, my dear Rentaro-kun,” Ayato began, his brown eyes twinkling, “I’m talking about a perfect body, rocking hips, gorgeous legs, succulent lips-“

“In other words, his girlfriend,” Shiromiya finished helpfully for him, as Makoto let out a small laugh.

“Wow,” Rentaro gushed, gazing at him in admiration. He turned to Makoto. “Do you have anyone special in your life, Makoto-senpai? I mean-” He blushed and turned away from him, “You’re so good-looking with your muscles, and you have such a kind personality and-“

“Oh, you know Tachibana, Rentaro-kun,” Ayato cut in, before he had a chance to reply. He slung his arm around Makoto’s shoulder, and pressed his finger to his own lips. “Mum’s the word about our dear Makoto-kun’s love life.”

“That is to say if he has one,” Shiromiya observed aloud, while Rentaro widened his eyes in disbelief.

“Oh, you don’t know Tachibana,” Ayato argued seriously. He leaned in closer to Makoto, who squirmed uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze. “He looks like a boy in love.”

“I DO NOT!” _‘Do I?’_ Makoto’s voice came out strangely high-pitched; was he that transparent? He hadn’t mentioned Haru to any of the students, just that he had casually mentioned in passing he knew someone who swam really well. Although Haru’s name was familiar with them, they hadn’t but two and two together that they were childhood friends…and possibly more than that…

Ayato nodded solemnly. “What can I say? I can read the signs any time, any place.”

“Do tell,” Shiromiya requested jokingly, “enquiring minds wish to know,” as Rentaro eagerly added, “What are they, Ayato-senpai?” Could you teach me the signs?”

“Unfortunately, Rentaro-kun, it’s not something to be taught,” he commented solemnly, as if he were explaining it to a child. “You have to feel it-“He tapped his heart gently, “right here. And when I see Tachibana-“he paused, as he gave Makoto a complete look-over, “I can tell. So spill Tachibana.” He scooted closer towards him. “Who’s got your heart wrapped around their finger?”

“Um-“Makoto felt almost certainly trapped; he most certainly didn’t know how he could dodge the question, with all of their inquisitive eyes poring into him, almost reminiscent of how only awhile back, children had been hearing the details of his heart’s desire.

“Or,” Ayato paused for dramatic effort, “are you intending to practice celibacy till your wedding night?” Ayato teased, his eyes dancing mischievously.

“That’s not true,” Makoto protested hotly; he could feel his cheeks burning, the heat rising all around him. He took a deep breath to cool his nerves, “It’s just that I don’t have anyone per se-“

“Oh, please,” Ayato scoffed, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. “The moment I met you I knew you were head over heels infatuated with someone. It was almost painful to watch to see the girls throw themselves at you,” he remarked, as Rentaro and Shiromiya nodded in agreement. “When you would oh-so politely turn down their requests. You couldn’t even admit you already had your special someone, I had to explain it to them when you’d walk away-“

“You **DID WHAT**?” Makoto sputtered in astonishment, as Ayato waved his hand dismissively in the air.

“No need to thank me, I was just doing my job,” he continued airily, “But, you have yet to answer one thing,” he pressed, “Have you said those words that everyone yearns to hear?” Makoto’s stomach turned over; again with those words, he thought self-consciously, his palms sweating slightly. Why was it weighing on him so much?

“What’s that?” Rentaro asked his eyes wide open with anticipation.

Shiromiya laughed. “You seriously can’t be that naïve, Rentaro.”

“Oh, you know, Rentaro-kun,” Ayato answered casually, drawling out each word carefully-”the immortal words that only the lucky ones are fortunate to feel and hear: I-“he waved a finger back, “love” and forth “-you.” He leaned forward and suggestively trailed his fingers along Makoto’s thighs, causing his breath to hitch slightly. He whispered tauntingly looking dead straight into his eyes. “So, Makoto-kun? Is there someone who leaves you breathless?”

_‘Haru-‘_

“Is there someone who teases you under your shirt?” he murmured, tiptoeing up his chest.

_‘Haru-‘_

“Is there someone who leaves bite marks along the side of your neck?” he teased, tickling his throat.

_‘Haru-chan‘_

‘Is there someone,” Ayato moved even closer to him, his breath mingling with his own ragged breathing, as much as he tried to repress it, “who leaves your lips black and blue and makes you forget all sense of reason in the stillness of the night?”

**_‘HARU-‘_ **

 “Tachibana Makoto?” Fujimoto-sensei’s voice called from far away, snapping him back to reality. Ayato pulled away from, grinning victoriously, obviously pleased with the reaction he’d achieved from him.

“Yes,” Makoto stammered helplessly, rising to his feet abruptly, ignoring Rentaro’s bewildered expression and Shiromiya’s amused smirk. He gladly welcomed the interruption, knowing full well he couldn’t have borne his suggestive movements much longer. His whole body was resisting the temptation to jump off the bus and start running towards Haru’s apartment, had it not been for his coach blocking his path…and his sense of judgment.

 “Is this yours?” He held up an olive-looking cell-phone out of a large box he was carrying. “And there’s no need to get up,” he added, giving him a wary look.

“Sorry and yes, it’s mine.” He accepted it almost desperately, his hands trembling slightly, as he collapsed back onto the seat. _‘Haru,’_ he thought weakly, _‘Do you have any idea what you do to me?’_

“Hmm,” Fujimoto-sensei snorted, ignoring his unusual behavior. “Interesting color,” he observed.

“Umm, well-“

His mind trailed off to the past, recalling the time when he’d unwrapped it and pulled it out of its packing. “It’s green,” he’d complained loudly. “Wasn’t there any other color?” he’d lamented.

Haru had shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “There was,” he explained, “but I liked this one best.” He’d paused, and looked away from him. “It reminded me of your eyes…”

“It was a gift, Fujimoto-sensei,” Makoto replied, ignoring his fellow interns’ all-too knowing looks. The coach nodded in understanding, gave him one final cautious glance, and resumed handing out the rest of their mobiles. Avoiding his present company’s inquisitive gazes and drowning out Ayato’s smothered snickers Makoto keenly switched on the phone. He immediately opened his inbox, and saw that it was flooded with unopened mails he’d received before he’d left. The day of his departure, he hadn’t had a chance to open the countless text messages he’d received from Nagisa who had cheerfully wished him, “Gan batte”; from Rei who had offered advice on what methods best to use on children when teaching the butterfly stroke or simply staying afloat; from Rin who’d insisted that he visit Iwatobi the minute he returned; from Haru-

 _‘Haru.’_ Haru who seldom texted and when he did it was only for emergencies, who rarely believed in the use of a cell phone, when he had so little to express. He **WAS** sending him an e-mail?! Willingly? Curious, he cautiously opened it-and as his eyes took in the words, his heartbeat quickened its pace, faster and more desperate than any of Ayato’s enticing methods had ever hoped to achieve.

**Makoto,**

**I miss you.**

**Haru**

His heart soared, confirming the feeling he’d been experiencing only minutes before; three days after he’d left, Haru had sent the text. Three days-knowing fully well he wouldn’t receive it, knowing his thoughts wouldn’t reach him till he returned, he still…Makoto’s eyes brimmed with slight tears; he hurriedly cleared his throat, as he almost-lovingly caressed Haru’s name on the screen.

“Haru,’ he whispered softly with a sense of yearning. “You-“

“Love letter?” Ayato asked with a hint of amusement in his voice; he peered over his shoulder inquisitively. Makoto quickly hid the message from his view with his hand, and gave him a brief smile.

“You could say that,” he admitted shyly. Yui’s last words echoed faintly in his heart.

**_“…remember to tell Haruka-if you mean it, to say it…”_ **

He gripped the phone tighter in his fist, his resolve determined, as he thought, _‘if I don’t say it now-‘_

Tonight. He would definitely tell him tonight. He had to…

~*~*~*~*~*

After bidding farewell to his co-interns and taking the bus home, Makoto finally found himself back in his apartment. He would have gladly stepped off near Haru’s apartment, but he thought he should take a quick shower, in an attempt to rid himself of the strong smell of chlorine, (although he realized too late that he doubted Haru would have minded it in the slightest). He’d already texted Haru earlier that he would be coming by, hadn’t said when; just that he was looking forward to see him. His message lingered heavily on him, as he quickly changed into a set of comfortable clothes. He hurriedly grabbed his car keys from the counter, and soon enough found himself driving towards Haru’s place. He was ready to take that next step in their relationship, voicing a sentiment he felt that- even though it was evident- it was time it was expressed.

And he was terrified. His stomach was doing somersaults by the second, each turn a tug at his throat, enticing the desire to throw up. It was worse that the feeling he would have before a big race, or the rush that would sweep his entire body as he neared the finish line. He kept rehearsing over and over in his head, how best to say it. How should one approach such a situation? Whilst he kissed him; when he buried his head into his shoulder? When he’d just look deep into his eyes, guessing what he must be thinking? It had never occurred to him how difficult it was to say the feeling that he probably had felt his entire life, since the moment he’d met him. And still, he couldn’t understand why in the course of their entire lives, why hadn’t he ever said it to him? The realization baffled him-immensely.

 But this was Haru-everything would be alright, he hoped. Having his mind in such a jumble, Makoto was pleasantly impressed his driving skills hadn’t been affected by it. Plus, it didn’t help either that he’d made the stupid foolish mistake to leave on an empty stomach. And he knew perfectly well that if they **BOTH** hadn’t eaten, their appetites would certainly kill the mood. So, he made the quick decision, and turned the corner and headed for the nearest convenient store; fast food would be too messy on the breath, he figured, so he settled on the next best suitable option: chocolates.

Makoto had realized much earlier that as much as Haru’s diet consisted only of fish of any kind, he could easily live on chocolates, if he didn’t know how disastrous and harmful they were to teeth, of course. Any type pleased him, although he had recently discovered that he was quite partial to the milky white chocolate that left a soothing sweet after taste lingering in his mouth. And judging on how he hoped things would work out tonight, he **NEEDED** his breath to feel just right.

Besides, he reasoned sensibly, as he parked the car and headed inside the shop, he could also bring some for Haru, as well. Sort-of a return home gift, he figured. He could still recall the look on Haru’s face when he’d told him he was going for a week, without cell phone contact or any other kind for that matter. It was true that they had only just ventured into the waters of ‘more than just friends’, but knowing Haru for as long as he did, he knew Haru would miss him…Dreadfully. Four weeks from their shaky hesitant start; to not being able to breathe without the other…Makoto wouldn’t want to change any of it. Even if it had taken them this long to get here---Makoto didn’t regret a moment- or a memory.

He glanced at his watch. ‘Haru would be having dinner right about now,’ he thought, as he headed down the aisle towards the appropriate location, ‘and most likely it’ll probably be mackerel. Although I’ve tried to change his diet, but since he still might be annoyed with me, he’ll eat it anyway,’ he realized with a slight chuckle. It sometimes scared him that he could read him so well, but there was still that small part of him that knew he couldn’t always know what he was thinking. And that part Makoto wanted to know the most; because that, in his opinion, was what truly defined Haru. The part-

“Are you going to stand here all night thinking to yourself, or are you going to buy something?”

Startled, Makoto broke out of his reverie, and spun around to see an elderly gentleman frowning at him. “You know, young man,” he berated him stiffly; “some of us aren’t as young as we used to be. So move on,” he lifted a wrinkled finger and pointed towards the door, “or move out.”

“Sorry,” Makoto apologized hurriedly; without a second glance, he grabbed a few of the nearest box of chocolates and moved away from him quickly. “I’m really sorry,” he added awkwardly, positive he was blushing up a fire on his cheeks.

The old man waved his hand dismissively. “No apologies, son,” he answered, as he bent forward and began looking for the object of his desire. “Just can’t live forever, can we?” he murmured under his breath more to himself than at Makoto.

“Right,” his voice trailed off, as he didn’t quite know how to respond, so he mumbled another apology, and rushed towards the counter. The salesclerk was absorbed in reading when he placed his items at the cashier, ignoring him entirely. Not meaning to be rude, although he really thought he ought to get her attention, Makoto waited patiently for a few seconds, before coughing suggestively.

She glanced up, as if just realizing she had a customer, and let out a small giggle. “Whoops,” she said, putting the book aside, and massaging the cramps out of her neck, brushing her bangs off her forehead. “Sorry about that. It’s just that once I start reading, I can’t stop,” she explained helpfully.

Makoto smiled a little less patiently. “It’s alright, just could you?” He gestured at his items, hoping that she’d get the idea that she should do her job and let him be on his way. His nerves already seemed to be failing his good sense.

“Oh, right,” she chuckled again, and immediately began ringing them up. “I’m such an airhead; it’s just that when I start reading Yuki Amane-sensei’s work I can’t stop myself,” she continued good-naturedly.

 _‘Yuki Amane…’_ Why did that name sound oddly familiar? “The writer?” he asked aloud.

The cashier’s face lit up. “Oh, are you familiar with her work?” she inquired eagerly, turning the book over so Makoto could read the cover. ‘Unspoken Promises’ whispered hauntingly up at him.

“No, I—“The memory of a footstool, a watchdog and a romantic flashed in his mind. “A friend of mine was a fan of hers,” he explained. She gave him a surprised yet pleased look; he was amazed at how much it reminded him of the excited expression Rin had worn back then.

“Really?” she said delightfully. “Have you by any chance read this?” And almost as if Makoto was living in a déjà vu, she turned over to the same page. “My favorite part is the ending,” she went on, “right here.” She tapped a red polished fingernail helpfully at the words Makoto had read aloud so many memories ago, yet seemed to have strangely forgotten-

_“For I know now I have found eternal bliss-_

_If I can die with your name still on my lips...”_

“If I can die with your name still on my lips,” she repeated dreamily. “I don’t know,” she remarked wistfully, twirling her hair around her finger, “when I read it, I feel so-“she hesitated, “it’s so-“

“Tragic.” Startled, Makoto blinked, realizing he’d said it aloud. That same unsettling familiar feeling washed over him again; he fidgeted as she gave him a disapproving look, as if she’d just seen him for the first time.

“Actually, I was going to say, it’s so romantic,” she finished, narrowing her eyes at him with a raised eyebrow. He stared back at her, unclear of how she expected him to respond. When it was clear he had no intention of continuing the conversation, she rang up his purchase, and said roughly, “550 yen.”

Makoto pulled the cash out of his wallet and handed it to her, sensing that he’d somehow darkened the mood. He was silent as she counted out his change and handed it firmly into his hands.

“Thanks.” He felt a bit ashamed of upsetting her. While he waited for her to pack his items, he thought he should apologize for his rather rude reaction, but she, herself, seemed to be bursting to say something more.

He watched her mull over it for a few seconds longer before she finally burst out, “Did you know ‘Regret-Me-Not’ was the last piece of work Amane-sensei ever wrote?”

Surprised, Makoto stared at her. “Really?” was all he could manage; the information seemed slightly unnerving to him, yet he couldn’t understand why.

“Yeah,” she rambled on amiably, forgetting her irritation at his previous comment, and handed him the boxes of chocolates. “She died really young, only 20 years old or something like that, there was-“she paused, absent-mindedly scratching the side of her cheek. “Car accident, I think, drunk driver,” she added unnecessarily. She gave him a long hard look. “Did you know that?”

Makoto looked down at the poem, the ghost of the words staring back at him. The odd disconcerting feeling seemed to be coiling in the pit of his stomach, growing larger, as the news of Yuki Amane’s sudden unexpected death weighed upon him.

“No.”

“I did not know that.”

~*~*~*~*~*

By the time, Makoto finally pulled into Haru’s apartment building’s driveway, the firm resolve in which he’d decided to finally address the matter at hand had gradually left his system, only to be left with a feeling of hesitancy and trepidation. He kept reassuring himself that it was just Haru, Haru who he’d been in love with since the day they’d met, Haru who he was certain felt the same way he did, **(or at least he hoped)**. So why was he complicating matters by over-thinking the details? Maybe it was his previous encounter in the store, or his classmates’ questions, or his students’ insistency to confess, or simply the few chocolates he’d eaten to relax his unsteady nerves; whatever it was, his heart was pounding so fast and hard against his chest, he was certain Haru could have heard it from inside.

Subconsciously, he clenched and unclenched his fingers around the steering wheel, gripping it tightly in an attempt to calm himself. “It’s okay,” he told himself softly. “It’s just Haru. It’s just like any other day. It’s going to be just fine. If I-” He bit his lip tensely. The earlier conversation with the salesclerk kept replaying over and over in his head; he couldn’t seem to shake it off. He didn’t understand what was particularly so romantic about that poem’s final words. “What did she **AND** Rin read into it that he could not?” he wondered aloud. The thought had been nagging him the entire ride to Haru’s place, and even now somewhere in the back of mind it kept lurking, clouding his judgment. A fraction of his mind wanted nothing more than to drive away and come back tomorrow when his senses might be more at ease, but-

Makoto had come here with a purpose. He shook his head resolutely; he had to forget about it. He had to say it tonight; if he was ever going to make any progress in their relationship, if he wanted to show, to tell Haru **JUST HOW MUCH** he meant to him, he had to do it. A week away from him had only convinced him that Haru **WAS** everything to him; and if that didn’t certify an ‘I love you’ he didn’t know what did.

 **‘Besides,’** he reasonably thought to himself. _‘It’s not like it’s going to be a surprise or anything; if nothing else, Haru will return the sentiment, and that’ll be it,’_ he reassured himself. Still, he wasn’t entirely convinced, as he stepped out of the car, the chilly night breeze nipping at his skin. Taking a few shaky breaths, he climbed the steps to Haru’s door. When he reached, he stood at the door, again being hit with the desire to rethink his whole idea. Maybe he could save it for some other time; they had all the time in the world, didn’t they? They were young, healthy men, they could-

 _‘No,’_ Makoto firmly cut off his thoughts of reluctance.  _‘It was now or never.’_ He rehearsed once more what he wanted to say, then taking a deep breath; he knocked on the door, counting the seconds till it finally opened, and then-

Haruka was in the doorway, looking at him the only way Haru reserved solely for him. And it stirred Makoto’s blood with a fierce need, that the second, Haru began “Mak-“, he cut him off instantly, without thinking, without hesitating, covering his open mouth with his, swallowing his name into his throat. The mere sight of him after a week fueled such a burning desire in his chest that all Makoto wanted to do at that moment was silence Haru forever. With a kiss so strong, so endearing, that even if he wouldn’t find the words tonight, his mouth would do the talking, and Haru would know what he had come here to say. He took a step into the apartment, still locking his lips with his, and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, loving how so perfectly Haru seemed to fit into him, like he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere else. Like they were meant to be together, like Makoto and Haruka was understandable, predictable, logical…

He sighed softly for a brief second, as he threw off his sports jacket in an attempt to be more comfortable, guiding Haru towards the couch and settling themselves down upon it. Haru tasted so good, like mackerel, he realized, as his lips left his albeit unwillingly, and traveled down his neck. He peppered him with soft airy pecks, barely touching his smooth skin, instead savoring the sweet scent of soap that was so familiar, so soothing that if- Makoto thought with a start, if anything was romantic, this was…Being with Haru, nothing could compare-Haru was his-Haru was love-Haru was flawless-Haru was-

“-Perfect,” he murmured, burying his face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling him slightly. “Just perfect,” he mumbled again, feeling Haru shift slightly at the ticklish impact. He smiled inwardly to himself as Haruka‘s hands traveled over his shoulders, gently enticing him to submission _. ‘If I could stay forever like this,’_ he thought contentedly as the warmth of the silence engulfed them. _‘If this could last forever, I’d-‘_

But, he couldn’t do that; even if he hoped this moment would last forever, he’d come with the firm decision to speak his heart; and there was no better time than now, he figured. He took a small breath of confidence, and began, still nestled comfortably in the base of his neck, “Haru-chan, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.” He paused, waiting for Haru to respond; when he didn’t, he added softly, “Something I’ve wanted to say for some time now.”

“Hmm,” came the reply; as was expected of Haru. Makoto felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as he pictured Haru’s reaction to his next statement. Mustering all the courage, the stamina, the will power he had inside of him, he said slowly, “I love you, Haru-chan.”

He felt his face heat up, as he felt Haruka stiffen under him. It might come as a surprise, he assumed, but he knew Haru had **ALWAYS** known how he’d felt; that ever since they were kids, he’d sensed it, felt it. He let his head rest a while longer in the nape of his neck, patiently waiting for Haru to respond in kind, to reaffirm their kindred relationship, to show Makoto that he wasn’t the only one who felt this way, that his feelings were **MOST CERTAINLY** reciprocated, that he loved him too, that-

“Oh.”

 _‘Oh?’_ Stung, Makoto felt rather than heard Haru’s response. His mind went blank, his heart rigid. ‘Oh?’ he repeated incredulously out loud, momentarily shaken. He abruptly lifted himself off his shoulder and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. After saying the one thing shared between the most intimate of people, all Haru could say was-

“Oh?” he voiced again, cringing at the slight edge in his tone, not entirely sure he believed what he had just heard. His heart yearned for Haru to correct him, to say that it had been a slip of the tongue, an accident, a mistake, but Haru was silent. He was looking at him with a dazed cloudy expression that made Makoto’s heart sink even lower. Did he not care?

“Isn’t there something you’d like to say?” Makoto asked. All the high hopes and expectations with which he’d arrived at Haru’s place slowly seemed to be vanishing, leaving him with a sense of loss. This was NOT how he’d expected things to turn out. And yet, why couldn’t he understand? That this was Haru; he wasn’t good with words, always had been. So, why was it hurting so much? So much so that Makoto could feel an invisible wall being set up between them, distancing them further and further. And for what reason exactly, he couldn’t figure it out…

“Makoto, I” Haru began, but he bit his lip in the process as his words trailed away, unable to complete his sentence. Makoto felt tears start to form in the corner of his eyes, but he couldn’t understand-couldn’t reach out to Haru’s inexplicable behavior. Why?

“I what?” he asked again; he hastily got up and looked at him.  The room was getting so stuffy, so congested; he wanted nothing more than to get out of there. _‘But why, Haru?’_ Makoto wanted to ask with all his heart. _‘Why are you doing this to me?’_ But, he couldn’t form the words in his mouth. He waited for a change in reaction, an apology for a lapse in judgment, instead-

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” _‘You don’t know if you love me, Haru-chan?’_ Why was he over-reacting? This wasn’t like him, or like Haru. Makoto’s insides were squirming unpleasantly; everything about the scenario in front of him was wrong; he had to fix it, re-do it all over. His heart hurt from the pain, his confession sounding so far-away, like it had never happened. And probably for the first time, Makoto realized the bitter truth. In all the years, their experiences, their moments, their life, there was always something he’d wanted; but, he’d never searched for it, because he’d never thought he’d need it.  He sighed in resignation as he reached for his jacket, the realization weighing heavily on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he begged for Haru to stop him, to change his mind, but-

 “You know, Haru,” he began, almost bitterly; the words seemed so foreign, so resentful, it hurt to speak. “I may always know what you’re thinking, even what you’re going to say, but sometimes-” _Please don’t make me say it…_ He paused, and looked at him, through his watery tears.

 “Sometimes I wish you would say what I wanted to hear,” he hesitated— _Please, Haru, don’t make me believe it-_ then, “without me having to say it for you.” Haru stared back at him, his face expressionless, seemingly unnerved by his comment. Makoto smiled remorsefully at his reaction. _‘Was this it, huh?’_ he wondered sadly. _‘Would a simple ‘I love you’ break us apart?’_ It was too much to bear; he couldn’t suppress the sobs that were growing inside of him much longer, so he quickly reached for the door, ignoring the idea that maybe he should stay, that he was blowing things out of proportion, that he was Haru’s Makoto. Makoto who would play mind games with others to guess what he was thinking, who instinctively knew what Haru had to say before he thought of it; but not tonight. He’d wanted more tonight, he’d hoped-

“Don’t go.” Startled, Makoto spun around and saw Haru pleading almost with his eyes to remain here with him, as if speaking to him not to trust his voice. He gulped; his hand still on the doorknob, he whispered almost pleadingly in return, “Give me one reason why I should.”

_Haru-chan, change my mind. Please…Please Haru, I love you…can’t you see that? Don’t you know it already by now?_

Silence and Makoto’s anticipation faded away like the flicker of a candle. He nodded; so it had had happened. He opened the door, slightly hesitating, rethinking his decision. There was so much more he wanted to say, to do, if he could just tell him-

“Haru-chan, I just realized something,” Makoto’s voice decided for him, even if he wanted to stop himself. _‘Why did he want to share the harsh fact of reality with him?’_ He couldn’t understand it, but he continued anyways, even though a part of his heart doubted its legitimacy.

“Maybe I was the only one who thought we were in love.” His throat tightened as he spoke, and he knew if he waited for a reply, he’d break down. So he left, hurriedly moving down his steps, blinking back the rapid tears that were ripping his chest apart, his footsteps echoing the gap that had inexplicitly formed between them, Makoto and Haruka. His head swarmed as he sat in his car, trying to catch his breath, _‘Why Haru?’_ he thought sadly, looking up at his apartment door wistfully. _‘Why did you make me say that?’_  Even now, Makoto wanted to turn back on the very feet he’d so easily walked away from. _‘I-‘_ he wavered over the handle of the car door. _‘I didn’t mean it, Haru. I-‘_

_‘Will you call me back?’_

_‘Please, Haru, call me back. I need to know you didn’t mean it. If I just know that. If I can hear it from you, if I-‘_

He waited for a second. He opened the car door and sat in the front seat. He waited a minute; he pulled out the keys and threw his phone onto the other seat. He waited another; he slowly turned the ignition. And another; he pressed the pedal as the car sprung to life.

_‘Haru-chan, please, please-‘_

And, he pulled out of the parking lot, his tires screeching against the pavement, almost reflecting how his heart was feeling at the moment. The tears were flowing carefree down his cheeks; Haru had been different, he’d felt it but maybe he’d simply ignored it. If he hadn’t maybe, just maybe---Makoto was too upset, too confused to think straight; he wanted nothing more than to go back home and pretend like it had never happened. That tomorrow would be a new day, and he and Haru would start all over, like-

 **Beep Beep** Makoto glanced over at the passenger seat where the phone was vibrating eagerly, the tone alerting him that he’d just received a message. Wiping his tear-stained face, he reluctantly reached across and lifted it off its seat. He carelessly averted his gaze off the road and opened the inbox, not really interested in talking to anyone presently.  But, when he saw who’d sent it, his eyes widened with surprise and his heart soared with an irresistible feeling of happiness that swept through his entire body.

**Makoto,**

**I’m sorry. Please come back. There’s something I have to tell you.**

**Haru**

“Idiot,” he whispered more to himself than at Haru, as a stray tear slid down his face. How could he have been so stupid? Behaved so childishly? Been so blind? Of course, Haru cared. In his own way, he would have said it; if he had just waited, given him time, he would have- Makoto smiled gently at the screen, as if he could picture Haru’s face through the phone. He re-read the message over and over again in his mind till it was cemented firmly in his heart, never to be erased-never to be forgotten. “Haru-chan,” he murmured fondly, cherishing the sound of his name, the name he loved, adored, more than anything in the world. He had to tell him he was coming back, before Haru would think he didn’t care, that he hadn’t received his feelings.  Before it was too late; he-----

 **BEEP BEEP** Startled, Makoto tore his eyes away from the screen; a look of panic spread across his face, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. He heard the tires screeching wildly, the wild honking of a horn, and a piercing blaze of yellow light flooded his view-

~*~*~*~*~*

_“Makoto, aren’t you going to come in?” Haru was completely submerged in the pool, peering up at him with his intense blur eyes, expectantly waiting for him to join him._

_“Huh?” Strangely, Makoto looked at him and gazed around suspiciously. “Haru, what are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing his forehead confused, “Am I dreaming? I was just in my car- how did I-“_

_“Oh, that’s right,” Haru continued, completely ignoring his remark. ”I almost forgot.” He stepped out of the pool, his body glistening with droplets of water, and approached him steadily. “I’m supposed to pull you in,” he finished, smiling. And then, his hands closed around his wrist and he was guiding Makoto towards him, and he forgot that he was fully clothed, that nothing else mattered except Haru was here…Haru with him…Haru-_

“Haru,” Makoto awoke with a start, his name still lingering on his lips. **“ARGH!!”** he moaned loudly. The image faded away before he could savor it only to be replaced a strange soreness spreading throughout his body. It became stronger and sharper till his entire body was screaming-screaming with pain. Every muscle, every joint felt a thousand times heavier as if they had been forcibly crushed, preventing any movement from him. Hot blood pounded violently in his veins, his breathing coming in short gasps. His face felt as if there were a thousand needles piercing his skin, stabbing him repeatedly with no desire to end any time soon.

Above all there was darkness. Pitch-black darkness surrounded him, as his eyes struggled to open, but wait-they were already open? _‘Am I alive? Or am I…’_ He pushed the idea out of his mind, as he very slowly yet painstakingly so, lifted his right arm up, forcibly swallowing the cries of agony that erupted through his fingertips and reached out straight ahead of him. A sheet was shielding his sight, and he frantically tore at it to clear his vision, and then he saw as if he was seeing someone else-

He remembered, the memory flooding back to him little by little…

He had been in the car, driving away from Haru. He’d received a text message, his heart had flooded with happiness, and his life had had meaning again, then-

**SLAM**

“What happened?” he asked weakly, licking his dry lips tenderly in an attempt to moisten them. “Was I hit? I-“his voice faltered, as he tried to recall what could have happened. A flood of lights-- the skidding of metal--- the honking of a horn--- Had it just happened today? Or was it a lifetime ago? It was like a giant truck had rammed into his car, and faintly he recalled his body smashing against every part of the car, spinning around and around without any means of ever ending. _Why did this scenario sound vaguely familiar?_ Groggily, he tried to wriggle his body out from under the sheet, but he felt forcibly pinned down by an invisible weight.  He suddenly felt faint as slight dizzy spell hit him sharply; he wearily rubbed a hand against his forehead in an attempt to ease the stars that were blinking before his eyes. His hand brushed against something warm. And wet. And sharp. Abruptly, he pulled away, and cautiously rubbed it between his fingers. _‘Glass,’_ Makoto thought weakly, brushing the shards of glass off his hands, _‘and blood. My blood, my-’_

It hurt as he recalled how he’d made the foolish mistake of not wearing a seatbelt, since he’d been so- He pushed the memory out of his mind, as he wriggled his body around in an attempt to shift himself to a more comfortable position--- and he froze. _‘My legs—‘_ Makoto nearly fainted from the idea, “I can’t feel my legs.” Panic-stricken, the world spun around him, his heartbeat doubled as he commanded, begged frantically for his body to move, urgently sending the signals for his toes to respond, for them simply to make a motion…

_‘I-‘_

_‘Move legs, move…I have to get out…I have to get out-I have to-‘_

“Damn,” he cursed loudly; his efforts were in vain. He was getting no response; he swallowed deeply as a fresh bout of pain swept through him, sending tremors up his spine. A wave of fear again crept through his mind as he thought where was he? What had happened? He had to try calling for help; someone had to hear his cries. Even if he couldn’t move, someone must have seen his car being hit, heard the noise, rushed for help-

“Help,” Makoto croaked hoarsely. His throat felt so dry-so parched. “Somebody help me,” he pleaded desperately trying to raise his voice, but it fell flat, barely audible over the roaring in his ears-or was it his heart? So faint that it could have been a whisper on the wind. Through the smashed rear view mirror, his eyes could hazily make out the wheels of his car still spinning wildly around and around. Groggily he shut his eyes, the throbbing in his body increasing with every breath. Every inch of him felt as if it were on fire, blazing with such intensity, Makoto was surprised he hadn’t gone up in flames.

_‘Please-_

_‘Somebody please help me…’_

  _‘How long have I been here?’_ he wondered dimly. A few seconds? A couple of minutes? Maybe an hour? A day? He had lost track of time, as the throbbing seemed to be increasing rapidly in the lower part of his body. He touched his stomach gingerly with the only arm that seemed to be functioning, and felt something moist and sticky graze his fingertips. Trembling, he lifted his hands up to the light; his stomach took a sickening lurch at the sight that befell his eyes. _‘Blood,’_ he realized, ‘ _It’s my blood.’_ His mind reeled, as a growing pain tugged violently at his insides, causing him to cough violently. Gasping for air, he leaned his head back against the car seat. _‘Am I going to die,’_ he thought, almost calmly; then as the sudden notion hit him again, he wondered, _‘Am I going to die?’_

“I’m going to die,” he murmured softly, yet firmly; tears welled up in his eyes, as the words spilled off his tongue.

_‘I’m going to die…’_

_‘I don’t want to die…’_

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Weakly he again tried to move, but he was trapped firmly between the car seat and the front of the car, the air bag crushing into his chest, slightly suffocated him. Tears of sadness and anger stung his eyes as he thought bitterly, _‘Why did I leave Haru’s place? If I hadn’t-‘_ A wrangled sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes. _‘I wouldn’t be here. Haru would have come around eventually that night- if I hadn’t over reacted, if I’d just known what he REALLY meant to say, if I had stayed to hear him say it, rather than through a message on the phone---‘_

His phone…with a burst of hope, he sat up faintly; heart racing, he remembered he had had it in his hands when he’d been hit. Through his one good eye (the blood from the wound on his forehead was blinding the other) Makoto hurriedly looked around searching for the object, twisting his upper body as far as it would allow him, fighting the soreness that ripped his soul. If he could find it, he could call for help, someone would find him, he’d be safe, Haru wouldn’t be alone, he-

He finally found it, nestled between the crevices of the back seat, the seat he faintly recalled how he and Haru had once had the privilege of enjoying each other’s company, involving quick heated kisses and a sense of longing that at the mere memory caused Makoto’s heartbeat to quicken. Momentarily drowning out his injuries and clutching to the chance of escape, he extended his one good arm as far as it could go, and by luck, he pulled it out by the tip of his fingers and turned it over eagerly. His heart plummeted; the crushed screen stared back at him, silent and broken like Makoto felt at that moment. His face crumpled, trying hard not to cry; the screen was damaged beyond repair and he watched as the one hope he’d clung to die away, just as quickly as he’d hoped for survival.

“Shit,” he cursed again, pressing the phone against his lips. “Shit, shit, shit, shit-“He exhaled deeply, as a sharp sting rocked his entire body. The front view mirror hung limply above him and as it swung loosely back and forth, Makoto caught a sight of his reflection in the broken glass and winced. Through each crack, his swollen eye, parched lips, bloodied forehead and bruised cuts stared back at him, reaffirming his situation. And the pain-the pain that wouldn’t go away-that hit him in every turn… With shaky fingers, he clutched the steering wheel, watching with a sinking feeling, the pool of blood steadily grow larger and larger.  He gulped; this was the end for him, wasn’t it?

And yet, there were still so many things left unsaid, so many regrets, so many unspoken promises…His mind ached for his family, his friends, for-

“Haru,” he choked out; God, he was in so much pain, it was nearly killing him. Wincing, he tried getting out, but he collapsed back heavily when he saw that it was futile. He rested his head back against the car seat, trying to ignore the stars dancing in front of his eyes. “Haru, I-“he murmured achingly, the name almost a breathe escaping from his lips.

_‘Can you hear me?’_

_‘Can you forgive me?’_

He’d never thought about death; the very thought seemed so morbid and horrible that it hurt him to do so. And yet, at this very instant, all he wanted to do was remember the people who’d meant so much to him, or the many moments left unfinished, unsaid-

He thought of his life, so meaningless, so incomplete, still hanging in the balance, teetering between life and death. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t get out. No one could hear him; no one would find him. Even so, Makoto realized with a pang, he didn’t want to leave this earth without expressing his gratitude to those-he gulped, as he tried to sit up straighter, but sank back from exhaustion. “Mom, Dad,” he mumbled hoarsely, “If you could see me now-“he stumbled on his words, as a small sob escaped his lips. His throat felt so dry, so parched, but he had to go on, even if talking aloud would take away the lack of oxygen he already had. Maybe it would keep him alive, conscious long enough for someone to find him-somehow-

“Mom, Dad, thank you for being my parents and letting me be your son. I-“he sighed, “I always wanted to live up to your expectations, and I-“he couldn’t finish; it hurt too much.

_‘Thank you for introducing me to Haru. Will you ever know how much it changed my life?’_

His parents-they didn’t deserve this. Neither did Ren and Ran? They- **“ARGH!”** He groaned loudly, clutching his abdomen fiercely; he grimaced painfully as another wave of excruciating pain hit, watching with fearful eyes the redness around him traveling further and further away, staining the air bag, dirtying the seat. He gritted his teeth fiercely. _‘Not yet-‘_ he thought achingly, _‘not yet-please, there’s still so much more left that I have to say-‘_

“Ren, Ran, I’m sorry, forgive me.” He paused, as tears welled up in his eyes, not from sadness, but pain that he would never give them piggy-back rides again, never read them to sleep, never see them graduate, never- “Thank you for letting me be your brother, I always wanted to be the best older brother for you I-“He hesitated, “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you both so much. Just know if I’m not there, Haru is-he’ll never be like me, but he’s still your brother, isn’t he? And Nagisa-“

 _‘Nagisa, huh?’_ The epitome of flamboyant energy and youthful vigor flashed in his mind; his heart remembered the small kid who’d followed them around so eagerly, who’d convinced them to start the swim club again, who’d look so lonely when they wouldn’t show up to cheer him on during his practices. He cracked a wry smile. “Nagisa, thank you, I’m so grateful that you helped remind me of the value of friendship and the joy of swimming.  If you hadn’t-” Makoto stammered, as a violent coughing fit struck him again. Doubling over, he brought his hand to his mouth, trying in vain to stifle it. When he pulled his hand away he grimaced weakly; the bright crimson glared up at him, taunting him, as if counting the few seconds he had left in this world. _‘I-‘_ He exhaled sharply- _‘I don’t want it to end like this, ‘_ he pleaded silently _. ‘Just wait a little longer…I need a little more time. There’re still so many people, so many things-‘_

 “Rei, thank you for joining our relay team and making us complete again. Did I ever tell you how much I appreciated that?” He smiled faintly for a moment. “Rin, thank you for reminding Haru the reason why he swam, thank you for being my friend, thank you-“He gulped deeply as he searched for the words. “You’ll help Haru-chan understand, won’t you? You won’t ever let him feel he’s alone. If I-“his voice trailed off; he couldn’t say it. “Haru-“he gave a strangled sob. “I-“but he couldn’t go on; it was too much. He couldn’t bear it, accept it, or finish it. It hurt so much, too much. “Haru,” he cried shamelessly, burying his face into his free hand, fighting down the scream, the plea to survive. The glass shreds pierced his skin, the blood bruising, and the pain overwhelming.

“Thank you,” he wept between faulty breaths; he pressed his arm over his eyes, ashamed of his weakness, regretting his loss, wishing for another chance that he knew would never come. “Haru, thank you,”  he cried shamelessly-what did it matter now?-, “for letting me be your best friend, your teammate, your confidante, your-“he stammered, gasping for air, “Your-Thank you for letting me love you, even-“he stopped, as he wiped away the tears. Had it only been this morning that Yui had encouraged him to say these words? Was it just a few hours ago Ayato had been pestering him about his ‘special someone’; a few minutes since Haruka’s lips had been pressed so passionately against his. Heart beating so fast he thought it would burst, he touched his lips lightly.

“Haru-chan,” his name came out like a breath of air. And then the words were stumbling off his lips as if he was using every last ounce of strength to, but he couldn’t tell if he was speaking, or merely thinking…Just that he had to go on-”Even without me, I want you to live for the both of us, okay? Beyond forever and after, I love you, I’ll always love you. Everything about you, I’ll take with me; and even if I didn’t hear you say the words, I know…I should have known, Haru, each time you kissed me- I’m so sorry for acting like an idiot, all the aimless arguments we had, I never meant them, I-“He stopped abruptly as a pain so sharp struck him fiercely; it was almost unbearable. He buckled under the agony as it intensified with each faint breath.  “I’m,” he panted struggling to continue, dying to finish… “If I-“He swallowed; it hurt to breathe. His head swum, he slowly rested his head against the steering wheel, crushing the air bag, and thought

_‘If I could just relax-‘_

_‘Just for a minute-‘_

A blinding light pierce his eyes, and then-he was swallowed into darkness.

And Makoto saw---

A memory so trivial so random, it was hard to say it was his life-and still, it **WAS** his life before his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*

_“I can’t believe I lost again,” Makoto complained, throwing his hands up in frustration. He shook his game controller angrily at the GAME OVER on the T.V. screen._

_Haru, unperturbed by his reaction, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he placed his own controller down onto the carpet. “What can I say? You became too hasty in the last round,” he pointed out, stretching his arms languidly over his head, and extending his lithe legs out in front of himself. Makoto was reminded almost instantly of a cat awakening after a long nap._

_He grinned, in spite of himself. “Well, I really thought I had you cornered in the last level,” he argued, “But I guess you were no match for me.” He sighed tiredly, and removed his glasses from his face. Placing them down on the rug, he rubbed his eyes softly, and continued, “Guess I’ll just have to concentrate harder to defeat you next time, Haru-chan.” He stretched his body lazily on the floor and propped his head up on one elbow, only to see Haru gazing intently at him, almost transfixed with his appearance. He squirmed uncomfortably. “What’s wrong? Something on my face?” he teased._

_Haru ignored him, and instead reached for his glasses.  “Do you really need these?” he asked, twirling them around on his fingers._

_Makoto shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes, though I don’t need them in the water or I’d be banging into the wall each time,” he joked, as he watched Haru slip them onto his face._

_“How do I look?” he asked, keeping his eyes firmly shut.  Makoto inhaled sharply as he marveled at the ability Haru possessed in making everything he wore always look so perfect. Haru, who himself was flawlessly beautiful, always was-_

_“Terrible,” Makoto commented, struggling to keep a straight face. Haru’s eyes fluttered open and then out of focus as he quickly removed the glasses off his face. “You’re right,” he replied, “You DO need them.” Makoto let out a low chuckle, as Haru repeated with concern, “Did I really look that bad?”_

_‘When did Haru ever care about appearances?  Wasn’t he the one who would strip in a department store, just to jump into an aquarium?’ Makoto nodded solemnly. “Terrible, honestly, Haru you should never wear glasses,” he informed him seriously._

_Haru narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously and folded his arms across his chest. “And why is that?”_

_“Because,” he drawled, a small smirk playing on his lips. He leaned forward and encircled his hand around Haru’s wrist and pulled him closer to him. “How on earth could I possibly drown in those oceans of yours, if they’re shielded from me?” he said softly, trailing a lazy finger up his arm, before cupping his chin under his hand. “How will I forget to breathe, lose sense of time, if I can’t look exactly into them?” he murmured, pressing his forehead against his, never breaking eye contact with him._

_Haru gave a deep blink and blushed, a faint tinge of red blossoming on the tip of his ears. “Shut up,” he mumbled under his breath. Makoto laughed kindly, and tilted his face up towards him. “Gladly,” he whispered, lowering his lips towards his, mingling his breath with his own. And Haru’s eyes lit up with such want and fierce desire, that he was shortening the gap between them by a fraction, until he was holding him like he’d never let go, kissing him like it was their first and last time-_

~*~*~*~*~*

Makoto could hardly feel the pain anymore; instead, it was replaced by a faint tingling sensation that swept over his entire body. Drifting back to reality, he tried to lift his head up; but-all he could do was grip phone tighter into his palm. His eyelids felt so heavy-so heavy- the effort of keeping them open was taking its toll on him _._ He felt light-headed, a slight dizzy spell hitting him again, as he shut his eyes in a final attempt to steady his senses. _‘Is this it?_ ’ he wondered wordlessly. _‘Is this the moment?’_ He felt so drowsy, so tired; if he could just close his eyes and rest for awhile, just for a minute or two, he’d wake up and this would all be nothing more than a dream that was a nightmare-

Out of a memory, he pulled out a small boy standing on the docks, watching a funeral procession drift soundlessly past him, as the boy clung to Haru’s shirt, trembling…

_‘Haru, would you believe me if I told you I still remember how many stars were in the sky the day we met? ‘_

He watched as that small boy buried his goldfish in his backyard, thinking what they must have thought as their lifeless bodies floated in the bowl, never to swim in the warm waters again. And in the shadows, his friend just watching, never speaking, understanding the pain his friend was feeling at that moment-

_‘Haru, would you believe me if I told you I knew you were special the minute we met? ‘_

Through the seasons, through the moments, even if it was but a memory-they had been; they were real.

_‘Haru-If I-‘_

His subconscious was slowly fading; the darkness was so close, yet he could still feel it. He could sense it, the life was leaving him, but he could still see Haru; Haru, all that was Haru, moving closer and closer to him, till the image was so pronounced and so clear that if he lifted his limp arm, he could entwine his fingers with his; he’d grazed the soft skin of his cheek and brush away the wetness he felt-

And through it all, as the silent tears streamed slowly down his cheeks, not from pain but sadness, his clouded eyes could make out blurred images rushing frantically towards him-flashes of flickering bright white light-and anxious voices that seemed so close and yet sounded so far-away…but he only had eyes for Haru-Haru…

_‘Don’t cry, Haru. I’m sorry I over-reacted; I wish I could go back in time, just to that moment and re-do it all over again. I didn’t mean what I said at the end. I wish-I wish-I wish I could live longer to tell you that; the time-it slipped away from us too fast…_

_Too fast-It feels like what happened was so long ago; like it was an exchange between two people who weren’t us. I don’t regret what I said before, you know that, right? If I-‘_

**Forgotten is the pain I felt at that time,**

“Hey, can you hear me? Is anyone in there? We’re going to get you out! Just hang on!”

_‘Who was shouting? Why were they yelling?’ He couldn’t make any sense of what they were saying. A faint ringing drowned out their words as it steadily grew louder in his ear, like the sound of bells-_

**As I hear the clock’s bell ring its final chime;**

“We’ve got you, buddy! We just gotta rip this door. Don’t die on us, kid! Hang in there! **HURRY UP!** ”

_Die? Who was dying? Haru was with him; that was all that mattered to him. Inching so close that Makoto could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose and tickle the eyelashes that delicately rested against the dampness of his cheek, which Makoto regretted causing them. Still, he had never felt such happiness, such peace, such bliss-if it could only last forever-_

**For I know now I have found eternal bliss** _-_

‘Alright, we’ve got you, we’re here. Hang ON-HEY, his lips are moving- He’s saying something- **HEY**!”

_‘Funny,’ he thought, as he laced his fingers through Haru’s, with the promise of never letting go. He was bathed in such a warm light that he knew could only be from Haru. ‘I finally understand why those words had been so romantic. Even if I realized it too late, I still-_

_‘Haru, did I ever tell you? I loved you-before I even met you. If I had the chance. I wanted to spend the rest of my life telling you again and again. With every beat of the heart, I- Don’t forget that, Haru. Don’t forget, never forget, I love you desperately, more than you’ll ever know, Haru-chan, with my last breath, I love you, Haru-If I didn’t tell you enough-Haruka…Haru-chan, I love you-love you...you-love---Haru-if I---‘_

“QUICK! GET A STRETCHER HERE QUICK! WE HAVE TO SAVE HIM! HE’S STILL BREATHING!!! WE CAN-“

**If I can die with your name still on my lips-**

“Ha-ru-k---”

~*~*~*~*~*                                                          

**Author's Note:**

> -If you read it till the finish, then- thank you for reading.
> 
> *Yuki Amane, ‘Regret-Me-Not’ and ‘Unspoken Promises’ are names created by me. Any similarity to person or written work is purely unintentional and coincidental~


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